


Unsurprising Surprise

by DarthSuki



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Comfort/Angst, F/M, M/M, Pregnancy, Strexcorp is Evil, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 01:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17437397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthSuki/pseuds/DarthSuki
Summary: StrexCorp isveryinvested in making sure that it has a new generation of happy, productive workers. Because of this, there's a fair number of guidelines in place for romantic couples, gentlyencouragingthem to have or foster children. Though there are plenty of incentives for lower-ranking employees, Kevin and you had no intentions of ever having a child together--not while in the employment of StrexCorp, at least.But you just found out that you're pregnant, and you have to tell Kevin.





	Unsurprising Surprise

He’s in his work room. It’s late into the night, but not yet late enough that either of you need to sleep, and he’s being just a little bit  _unproductive_. A hobby, that’s all it is, a hobby that is tedious and time-consuming and painful enough that it feels like it has some sort of inherent meaning every time that Kevin draws blood when his focus isn’t sharp or his mind is wandering.

Nobody would ever think that Kevin enjoys sewing.

He’s not particularly at it--there’s not very much he’s good at outside of radio, after all--but it’s something that has substance to him. He can make physical things from such a craft, look at them before his face and, in the same fit of  _emotions_  that are often what create these tiny projects, he’ll burn them down to ash.

Kevin keeps only some of them. They’re tucked away in a box, as far from view of a camera or listening device as possible. He wants to give one of them to you someday, when it has the most meaning.

When he hears the sound of the door opening, the man quickly drops what he’s doing and moves to stand and face it. It’s not as if he’s really trying to hide what he does, not really, but he’s neither making it obvious either. It’s only something he’s recently picked up on, after all, when he asked you what it really  _meant_  to have a hobby in the first place.

But none of that matters. Absolutely nothing else matters than the moment that Kevin catches the glimpse of nervousness on your face.

It is as obvious to him as a shining red light, but it bothers him more that he doesn’t  _know why_  you look like that. You have no reason to look so sad, no cause or issue that he’s aware about--so Kevin quickly steps forward, a demand somewhere gentle in the back of his throat to know why, oh why, does his dearest look so unhappy?

Did someone cause this?  _Did someone hurt you?_

You still his question before it comes out with raised hands in front of you, a gesture not of fear, but calm comfort. You’re nervous, but not shaken--though Kevin doesn’t quite know how long it’s taken you to work yourself up to telling him this.

“Kevin,” you start gently, weighing his name on your tongue.

A moment passes and the man lets out a soft, almost sheepish little giggle.

“That’s who I was the last that I checked,” He doesn’t quite meet your eyes. He can feel an air of tension. “-hopefully that’s who I’ll continue to be for a while.”

You pull in a slow breath of air into your lungs. It’s been a day, a whole day that you’ve had to think of the best way to tell him, to gauge his reaction. You’re not afraid of what Kevin will say or do--no, your fear is not because of him; it’s something bigger than him, but it’s fear all the same.

“I...went by the clinic yesterday, after work.”

You remember it, like something out of a fever dream. Everything was so white, so clinical, so  _cold._ You remember giving the nurse your employee badge and telling her why you were there, what you  _suspected_  of yourself--

And oh, how she smiled. How the doctor smiled. How  _everyone_ smiled when you were told the results of the test.

You tug yourself from the memory to find Kevin looking at you, the corners of his mouth fallen into something that is not a smile. It’s concern, breaking through the mask, concern for  _you._

A breath in.  _You can do this._  And then a breath out.

“I’m pregnant.”

The room is so silent that you could have heard the drop of a needle, the beat of a heart, the soft intake of breath. It’s silent, and tense, and you’re just  _waiting_  for Kevin to respond with something.

He just looks at you, the corners of his lips twitching until he wears a fake, forced grin on his face, though his brows are knit and his eyes look pained.

“Oh!” he finally exclaims. “That’s good! Oh, oh how....how very  _good_ that is!”

His voice almost pulls at the noises, elongating them to a level of obvious fakeness. He takes a step closer to you, arms outstretched, as if inviting you into them.

You stand there, staring at him until he drops his arms and hollow expression to the real one beneath; the look of concern is back again.

“...you are certain of this?” He finally asks in a soft whisper. 

You nod your head, arms gently crossing over your front, remembering the cold glee in the doctor’s voice when he had broke the news to you.

_‘It would seem that StrexCorp can look forward to having another productive, happy employee like Kevin in the future.’_

Kevin looks at you with mixed emotions swimming in his chest. He...doesn’t quite know how to feel. There are plenty of reasons to be happy in the news, bringing a tiny life into the world with someone he loved very much, but...

He didn’t want to say it out loud, but Kevin had honestly hoped that you would  _never_  get pregnant. Despite all the rules and regulations in-place, the  _encouragement_  for romantic couples to get pregnant, the rewards and breaks and days off and  _everything_ , Kevin knew that he didn’t want to bring a baby into this horrible, disgusting world.

Deep down, deep, deep down in himself, there was still a thread of the Kevin that was, the Kevin that rebelled, the Kevin that wanted and wants nothing in bringing another helpless life into the control of StrexCorp.

For as much as he had  _hoped_  and wanted and  _tried_  to keep you from getting pregnant, the outcome is still the same.

“I’m not mad at you, dearest,” Kevin finally coos, taking the last step forward to wrap his arms around your body. “I’m not mad at you at all--this is still happy news! So...so happy...I am...so happy!”

He is, in a way, a kind of happiness that would have been felt better if he didn’t have to worry about the close eye StrexCorp would soon keep on you. He’d feel better if he didn’t have to feel so suddenly responsible for more stress on your shoulders. 

He’d feel better if he even believed he’d be a good father.

You let yourself lean against him, let your arms reach up and wrap around his waist, even let your head press against him in a moment of genuine comfort and intimacy. 

“...I think things are going to be okay.”

You don’t even realize the words tumbling from your lips until there out in the air, voicing a level of calm confidence you didn’t realize you still had--StrexCorp had taken so much of it from you.

“Y-yeah,” Kevin agrees, slowly filling his voice with that bright, over-starched joy and meaning it at least partially. “Things are going to be wonderful! I’ll have to fill out the paperwork so that you’ll be authorized to work from home in your third month, but I won’t have you do anything--I am still your boss, after all.”

It’s as if he had never sounded anything but joyful in the news, that moment of vulnerability come and gone in but the span of a few sentences. You clutch him tight, take pleasure in how he holds you, how he anchors you and protects you in more ways than one.

The two of you stand there for a while, weighing the complexity of the emotions in your chests, the sudden reminder of how dangerous the world was around you both--and in nine months, there will be a baby brought into it.

But it’s okay, because you have each other.


End file.
